


and i became myself again

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [100]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Snow White and the Huntsman Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke finds herself an unlikely ally in her quest to defeat Queen Alie - at first she doesn't know quite what to make of huntsman Bellamy Blake, but their journey lets trust (and something more) grow between them.</p><p>{ Prompt: Bellarke + Snow White and the Huntsman }</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i became myself again

Clarke woke up with her dirt-smeared skin and matted hair soaked with sweat. The nightmare was always the same: the guards going slack-faced, courtiers crying out as they were slaughtered, the toll of the bells ringing for her father’s death and the siege of the castle, Wells’s hand slipping through hers, the sound of the gate slamming shut. Then: the triumphant glint in Queen Alie’s eyes and the glimmer of her red lips--red as all the blood she had spilled that night--in the torchlight.

Ten years ago Clarke had been taken prisoner, and ten years later, she was still having the same terrible dream in the same terrible tower cell.

Except--except this morning, something changed. When Jaha made his monthly visit to offer her yet again an opportunity to take the potion that would eliminate her pain, he forgot to take off his dagger. So just like her father had taught her, Clarke grabbed her enemy’s weapon and knocked him out with one swift blow. Her hands shook as she stole the keys and unlocked her cell door, but they were steady by the time she crawled out of the underground tunnels and into the forest.

Brambles caught in her skirts and branches scratched her face as she ran further into the unknown. It wasn’t until she almost tripped over a fallen log that she realized the vibrant forest of her childhood adventures with Wells had been turned into a blackened, rotting wasteland. It made her chest ache with sadness and then burn with anger. This was what the queen had done to her home. She had destroyed it, just like she had destroyed everything else in Clarke’s life.

The bubbling brook that had sparkled in the sun was now a sludge-filled marsh, spilling over the banks. Clarke stumbled as silt slipped beneath her poorly clad feet. Cold mud seeped through her skirts, gathered under her fingernails. She just clenched her fists. More dirt wouldn’t hurt her, but catching a chill-induced sickness might. Still, she waded on through the murky ankle-deep water because if she wanted even the slightest hope of saving her kingdom, she needed to make sure she stayed free of the queen.

She was so focused on her footing that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her or the dagger being drawn. When someone grabbed her from behind and held the blade to her throat, she certainly noticed though.

“Brave, to try your luck out here,” a low voice rumbled in her ear. He grunted as she tried to wrestle free, but the dagger limited her options.

“Desperate, more like it,” she bit out as she tried to find a soft place to jab her elbow in.

At the sound of hoofbeats, they both froze. Her attacker whipped her around to face the approaching guards.

“Nicely done,” Jaha said as he dismounted. “Now hand her over.”

Clarke couldn’t help but flinching away from his outstretched hand. Her heart beat frantically against her chest as she waited for her captor to hand her over. When he hesitated, hope swelled up inside her.

Jaha frowned, and the guards with him drew their swords.

“Why do you want her?” The man behind her asked.

Jaha growled out a refusal to answer his question at the same time as Clarke announced, “To kill me, of course.”

“If you don’t keep up your end of the bargain, Blake, the queen won’t keep hers,” Jaha warned.

Her captor’s grip immediately tightened on her again, but he didn’t step forward. Sensing his indecision, she made a gamble. “You have to know that whatever they’ve promised you, it’s all lies. They’ll cut your throat right after they’ve cut mine.”

“It’s not what they promised me,” he murmured. “It’s who.”

Then he shoved her to the ground. She heard Jaha curse in frustration, and the clang of steel. Flipping over, Clarke scrambled out of the way, watching as her new ally fended off the queen’s guards. Not to be left out, she picked up a dead guard’s knife and joined the fight. He seemed surprised at first, but when she saved him from a sword in the back, he stopped watching her out of the corner of his eye. Just as he took down the last guard, she called out--from where she was bent down, making sure the dead were indeed dead--to warn him about Jaha escaping. Though his dagger caught the man’s shoulder, he was still able to ride away.

He turned towards her with a tense, resigned expression on his face--his face, which was handsome, brown with freckles and intelligent eyes. He pushed his curly hair back before extending a hand to help her up. “Come on, princess. Looks like I’ve thrown in my lot with you now.”

“They told you?” She asked.

“Told me what?”

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, and then down at her ratty clothing, she realized: he didn’t actually know she was the princess. So she shook her head, shrugging off his puzzled look. There was no need to give him more reason to think her more trouble than she was worth.

Instead, she just asked if he could guide her to Duke Kane’s castle--one of the last holdouts from Queen Alie--and only after a long pause and a heavy sigh, he agreed.

* * *

 

Miles and hours later, she wished she had told him, told Bellamy, who she really was. Though the details had come reluctantly, he had revealed to her that the queen had taken his sister’s husband. She had promised to return him if he brought back an escaped prisoner-- _her_ \--in exchange. When she asked him why he didn’t go through with it, he just scowled.

“Could you live with yourself if you caused the death of an innocent just to save someone you loved?”

The pain and guilt on his face were evident, and without thinking, she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, but thank you.”

His arms came around her hesitantly, but he didn’t pull away until she did. The words were at the tip of her tongue then-- _I’m the princess and we’re going to Duke Kane’s castle so I can save this kingdom_ \--but she swallowed them down.

* * *

 

That night when they found sanctuary at Luna’s village, Clarke couldn’t keep herself from watching Bellamy connect with the villagers. They had only been there a few hours, but he already had half the children climbing on his back and begging him for more stories. It made her smile, but it also made her feel lonely.

She was staring at him so hard that she didn’t realize an awed hush had fallen over the crowd. It was only when Bellamy’s gaze locked with hers--eyes widening in shock--that she noticed. Looking up, she saw a ring of neon-blue butterflies circling around her head. They were beautiful, but also damning, as her identity had now been revealed to the entire camp.

“Your highness,” one of the villagers murmured, dropping to her knees. Clarke protested, trying to get her to stand because she hadn’t stood for that formality even when she was a child. Regardless, more people followed suit, until the only two left standing were Luna and Bellamy. Luna just raised an eyebrow, and Clarke sent her an easy, relieved smile. It faded when she looked at Bellamy again and noticed the hard look on his face.

With a clench of his jaw, he turned on his heel and strode off into the night. Her heart fell because she knew if he was walking away from her now, then he wasn’t ever coming back.

The children were pulling at her skirts though, asking a dozen happy questions, and so blinking away her tears, Clarke smiled down at them.

* * *

 

Amidst the flames and glint of swords in the night, she didn’t see where Bellamy had come from. Yet there he was, fending off Jaha and the queen’s guards who had tracked them to Luna’s village. Seeing the peaceful town go up in smoke tore at Clarke, because this wouldn’t have happened if not for her being here. The guilt distracted her, and a guard was able to tackle her to the ground. Without a second thought, she called out for Bellamy.

He called back, his voice angry and desperate, but from the sound, Clarke knew he was too far away. She would have to get out of this herself. Strangely, though, the guard’s grip was tight but not painful, and he seemed to be trying to genuinely calm her.

Right before she was about to knee him in the groin, the guard pulled off his helmet. Dark, kind eyes set in a dark face stared down at her, and the man pleaded, “Clarke, please, it’s me! It’s Wells!”

She choked on her own gasp, and he pulled her into a hug. When the clash of swords startled them apart, she saw Bellamy fending off a guard that had snuck up on them during their reunion.

“We’re friends with them now?” He grunted angrily at her as he dealt a killing blow to his opponent.

“Just this one,” Clarke said with a small smile of reassurance at Wells. He must have infiltrated the guard once rumors of her escape had reached the Duke. “We’ve known each other a long time.”

Even though Bellamy threw them both a dubious look, he jogged beside them as they headed out again into the night. It was small consolation but Clarke knew Luna would be able to rebuild her sanctuary--though she would not be able to bring back the lives lost to the fires. Suddenly, as if sensing her guilt, Bellamy grabbed her hand.

Squeezing it, he gruffly said, “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” she gasped as they continued to run. “It is, but I’m going to make sure nothing like that ever is again.”

He didn’t say a word, just ran his thumb along her knuckles in understanding.

* * *

 

They were only a day away from Lord Kane’s--and with a band of rebels, who called themselves the Delinquents, in tow--when Wells sought her out for a walk, just the two of them, early one morning.

“Lord Kane will really take them in?” She asked, referring to their tagalongs: Jasper, Monty, Harper, Monroe, Raven, Murphy, and Emori.

Wells nodded. “He’s vowed to take in anyone who seeks shelter from Alie. Now with you returned, though, we might have a real shot at taking back the kingdom.”

Clarke stared at her muddy, worn boots. “I don’t know if I can do this, Wells.”

“Do what?”

“ _Lead._ ”

“You used to boss me around just fine when we were little,” he joked.

Snapping her head up, she frowned teasingly at him. “I did not!”

“Did too. I just never listened.” His smile faded. “I shouldn’t have listened to my father that night. I shouldn’t have gone to meet Kane on my own. I should’ve waited for you. I--”

“You didn’t know, Wells. You didn’t know your father had fallen under Alie’s spell. Of course you were going to listen to what he said, especially when the castle was under attack,” she reassured him. “ _I’m_ sorry that you lost your father for all these years. We’ll get him back, and the rest too.”

Her thoughts flickered briefly to Bellamy, and his sister’s husband. Her gaze followed her thoughts, and she glanced back towards camp.

Wells sighed. “We should be getting back, yeah?”

Clarke nodded and stayed close to him as they walked back. Even after years apart, there was something so steadying about his presence. He was still her best friend, despite everything. Because she felt so grounded in Wells’ presence, it took her off guard when Bellamy’s refusal to look at her upon her return shook her to her very core. She stopped dead, lips parting in surprise at his coldness. Nobody else seemed to notice, but still she stood there, silently begging him to look at her.

He didn’t though, and she was so busy looking at him, wanting him to see the truth in her eyes (Wells may be her best friend but the thread connecting her and Bellamy was so _so_ very different) that she didn’t notice who handed her the apple.

Hungry, she bit into it. The dizziness and drowsiness hit her almost immediately, followed by a numbness. She felt herself drop to the hard ground, but she didn’t feel the pain of it.

 _My pain is gone_ , she thought, smiling softly up into panicked brown eyes. _It’s gone, gone, gone._

Then the sight of Bellamy’s face twisted in fear was consumed by black.

* * *

 

Bellamy stared down at the princess’s still figure, swathed in pink fabric and candlelight. Her hair glowed golden, brighter even than when he had seen it glint in the sun. It wasn't the same, though, not without her lively blue eyes and determined, sure words.

Alie had seen fit to make sure her eyes would never open and her lips would never move again. Bellamy gripped the side of the bed as another wave of hot anger rolled over him. Not many royalty were fit to lead even if it was considered their birthright, but Clarke was different. She was fierce but kind, ruthless but fair. She wasn't a perfect leader by any means--there was a lot she had left to learn about her people--but she was indeed a born leader.

Bellamy glanced down at her face again, noting a stray curl. He reached up to move it, but then paused. It didn't feel right, touching her like that--a gesture of intimacy--when she was like this: asleep, without any pain thanks to Alie’s potion but also unable to wake up.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember if he had ever heard her laugh. He'd heard her yell, cry, whisper in fear--but never laugh. It was unfair, he thought selfishly. Just once, he wished he had heard her laugh.

Without thinking, he twined his fingers with hers. Wells had taken her hand earlier, so easily--as a friend (and maybe something more, Bellamy couldn’t tell) should. He had kissed her on the forehead before leaving for a war council meeting with Kane. Bellamy had been invited, and had planned on going--he still had Lincoln to save--but he hadn't been able to leave Clarke's side.

Her hand was small in his, and he brushed a thumb lightly over her skinned knuckles. He traced every cut and scratch, thinking of how he really need to teach her how to use a sword. Punching people wasn't going to get her very far. He smiled for a moment at the image of her with a blade on her hand, but it faded quickly. She was still asleep, still utterly still, lost to them (to _him_ ) forever.

He didn't believe it at first, when her hand twitched. His thumb paused its back-and-forth rhythm, and he held his breath as he stared down at their interlocked fingers. When they flexed, entirely of her own doing, Bellamy jerked his head up. Clarke's eyes were fluttering open. His throat grew tight, and his eyes started to burn with tears.

After blinking a few times, she turned her head towards him. Her expression immediately relaxed, and he felt her squeeze his hand. “What happened?”

He swallowed and explained, watching her expression turn stormy as she took in what Alie had done to her. As soon as he finished, she tried to sit up. Bellamy leapt forward to press her back down on the bed, because she was wincing and panting in pain.

A laugh bubbled out of her, and he furrowed his brow.

“Well, that hurt,” she said quietly, wrapping her hand around his wrist to keep it at her waist. “I didn't think I'd ever be happy to have something hurt.”

Bellamy sighed, looking down at her fondly. Her lips parted, no doubt in surprise because he wasn't trying to hide anything anymore, not when he had almost slipped away from him. Somehow he had fallen for Clarke, and it was time she knew it.

“We almost lost you.” The words popped out unbidden, his voice raspy with sadness and resignation. “I almost…”

“I'm right here,” she murmured back.

His heart stopped when she tentatively raised a hand. He sighed in relief when her fingers gently traced his cheeks, his temple, his jaw, his lips. Closing his eyes, he started to pull away because she was in pain, she had a kingdom to save, she didn't need him asking any more of her right now. But then her hand cupped the back of his neck to stop him, the bed creaked, and her lips--soft, dry, and sure--brushed his. He kissed her back with equal gentleness, breaking it off when he felt her shudder in pain.

“I wasn't done,” she rasped. Her face relaxed in relief while he helped her sit up.

“Neither was I, but we have some things to take care of first.”

She threw him a small, tired smile of understanding. “Alright--help me stand?”

Bellamy did as she asked, supporting her as she shuffled her way to the great hall where the Duke’s forces were gathered.

When they limped into the room, it fell dead silent. All eyes were on Clarke, on the princess. With a cry, Wells left the Duke’s side and ran for Clarke. She let go of Bellamy to hug him, and he steeled himself to let her go for good.

It was to his utter surprise, then, that as soon as Wells pulled back, she immediately leaned back into his side.

“I need just another minute,” she murmured into his side. “Just another minute with you.”

He squeezed her hip in acknowledgement, chest tight with emotion that it was _him_ she was drawing strength from.

Bellamy felt her take a deep breath and then pull away slowly. He could see how much effort it was taking her to stand upright on her own, but her head was held high with confidence as she stepped forward to address the Duke’s forces. He smiled at the fight and fire he saw lighting up in their faces as Clarke began to speak.

That was his princess, all right.

* * *

 

The battle was long and hard, but Clarke had too many things worth fighting for to let herself succumb to failure. Even so, when she drove the dagger into Alie's heart, she felt nothing but exhaustion as she watched the light leave the false queen’s eyes. Bellamy had been there to catch her when she collapsed, though, and they had lain in the center of throne room in a tangled heap just breathing each other in. Her hands wandered over his unarmored body-- _stubborn ass_ \--to look for injuries. Worry flared up in her gut as she probed each cut and tender area.

“I'll be fine,” he murmured into the top of her head. “I'll be fine.”

She sighed against his chest, letting herself have a few more moments with him before having to address her victory and the hard work of restoring her kingdom that would come after.

Eventually, she had to face that future though. When she stood, she slipped her hand into Bellamy's and tugged him with her. When the castle doors opened onto the courtyard, the Duke’s forces and the now free courtiers and citizens cheered deafeningly at the sight of her. Throat thick with emotion, she glanced at Bellamy. He was smiling down at her with love and assurance. Happy tears pricked her eyes, and Clarke raised their intertwined hands, gave his knuckles a quick kiss ( _I love you too_ ), before thrusting her hand up with his before the crowd in celebration.

She might be the queen now, but she would never have won her crown if it hadn't been for Bellamy. He was at her side then, and now, and she planned for him to be beside her--in the war room, on the throne, in her bed, in her heart--for the rest of their days.

“You ready?” He asked, gesturing to the parting crowd inviting her to come greet them.

Clarke sprang up to give him a long kiss, relishing the way his palms pressed against her back to pull her on close. When she broke away, she laughed at the happy, dazed smile on his face. “Whenever you are.”

And they walked forward together, happily, into their ever after.


End file.
